Poor little rich girl
by finmagik
Summary: Princess is 17 and she has come to the realization that her life is empty and decides to something very drastic about it.


Poor little Rich girl  
  
By Finmagik.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't Princess I don't own the Powerpuff girls Craig does all hail Craig!  
  
Rating: R   
  
warning: Deathfic, Angst, bad language, Darkfic, POV  
  
SummarY: Princess is 17 and she has come to the realization that her life is empty and decides to something very drastic about it.  
  
Dedication: This is Dedicated to My everyone in my New Maling List Townsvillainys: The darkside. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The bathroom here is beautiful, the basin of the sink and the bathtub are made of imported italian white marble. The tiles on the floor are hand painted by a master craftsman. The faucets are made of platinum. Everything is the best. The best for me. And all of it is cold, hard stone and metal. I look into the mirror. Here I stand, Princess Morbucks seventeen years old, heir to massive fortune, and I look near perfect, I've changed so much. My hair was once a mass of tight short red curls, that was fine then but not as I got older. Now thanks to dyes, chemicals, products, and the skilled hands of the Finest French beautician it's an unnatural blondish copper, that's straight, smooth and it shimmers in the sun, but its limp , dry like straw, and it seems to harden into some kind of brittle shell. And years of spas, gyms, diet pills, personal trainers have toned and shaped my body to perfection, nothing but a shell covering a gaping void inside.  
I've filled the bathtub now, the water sparkles and and dances, the temperature is just right, not to hot to cold. The jets in the bottom pump out plumes of soothing crystal clear water.  
  
It won't be clear soon. I step in, and slide down. I hold the gleaming razor blade, and my hands are trembling. No, this can't be. I can't get scared not now. I want this and I get what I want. I'm not scared of this razor blade its my fate. I didn't want to go this way, but I couldn't just swallow pills, that would to to cowardly. And I couldn't do what Originally planned which was to jump out the window skyscraper and kiss the pavement. Oh no, not in THIS city. Those damned Powerpuff girls would come along and ruin my plans again. It wouldn't be like I'd be hurting anyone else, buuut nooo. I know they'd come along, catch me and tell me I have reasons for living. Try to sell the bullshit, that I have friends and family who care about me.  
What the hell do they know? When they walk in the door of their house, the Professor is always there to give them affection, he paces the floor when they break curfew. And their friends know them and like for who they are not what they have. I walk in my house any time of the day or night, and its as a tomb (a expensive tomb) but none the less, a tomb. Daddy's always away on some business trips these days and the servants don't give a flying fuck as long as they get paid. And Mommy ran away with the Chauffeur when I was a toddler.  
My friends, that's a joke, friends toadies and suck ups the whole lot of them, they swarm me like parasites. The girls just want to be seen with me, the boys just want to do me.   
  
I look down at my wrists. This shouldn't be to hard, I've tangled with the Powerpuffs when I was just a little girl. Two little cuts shouldn't hurt so much. The left one first, then the right. I never guessed I have that much blood in me, it just starts gushing out like crazy. Two red rivers flow through the clear perfect bath water. Daddy's going to be so mad at me, I stained the marble. Maybe.... my thoughts are getting hazy... I should I have left a longer note... I should have said something about that night in Paris when I was fourteen... maybe... I should have told them how much I hate Townsville, for not loving me, no matter how much I tired... for not letting me destroy this miserable little burg... maybe.... The water is now a lurid red.... The void is looming ahead of me.... there is no light at the end of the tunnel.... just pitch- black... I deserve it.. I'm a filthy, evil little worthless whore... I wish... they'd stop me... I but they don't... they don't care.... . why aren't they here? I think my note says enough.... in words of Billie Holiday:  
_  
"Papa may have, Mama may have, but God bless the child who has her own."_  
  
~FIN~ 


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